


We're Fine

by cryme_anocean



Series: We'll Figure it Out [17]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Verse, sprinkle of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:11:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryme_anocean/pseuds/cryme_anocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey’s eyes flicker to his and then back to the screen. He doesn’t move to make room for him on the couch. He takes that as an invitation to kindly fuck off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Anon: mickey is pregnant and he's sad and depressed but ian is there too comfort him and he's all protective and stuff. lots of hugs and cuddling
> 
> And you already have another one. Wow. This is like a never ending story for me. I was also very inspired to write an actual multi-chap fic that has nothing to do with this verse but I know the second I do that this series will be over, so, it'll have to wait. Also, this series really doesn't look like it has an end. As long as I keep getting prompts, these fics will continue. 
> 
> I LOVE EVERY COMMENT, KUDO, BOOKMARK, SUBSCRIPTION, MESSAGE TO MY TUMBLR, AND READER!!!
> 
> WARNING: I have become very lazy. I just don't feel like reading to make sure it's free of mistakes. I apologize.

Mickey is curled up on the couch when he gets home. He’s lying on his side, arm wrapped around his middle protectively, and staring at the TV screen blankly. He’s not sure if he’s actually watching… Teen Wolf—probably not—or not.

 

“Hey Mick,” He shrugs off his sweatshirt and hangs it on the coat rack before he makes his way to his Omega.

 

Mickey’s eyes flicker to his and then back to the screen. He doesn’t move to make room for him on the couch. He takes that as an invitation to kindly fuck off.

 

Ian sighs and makes his way to their bedroom. He changes out of his clothes that smell like meth and old men and alcohol—it’s always bothered Mickey when he comes home smelling like the club. Once in his boxers and a white t-shirt, he reenters into the living room.

 

“Can I sit with you?” He asks, reaching out to touch Mickey. Mickey flinches away from his hand. He freezes and stares at him, dropping his arm.

 

 _Mickey worked today_ , he goes over in his mind. Mickey worked but that’s all he knows. He’s not sure what else could have happened. He watches as Mickey curls closer. He watches as Mickey’s arm wraps tighter around his stomach, now understandably large at six months. “Mickey,” He tries again.

 

“Go away, Gallagher.” He mumbles and refuses to look at him.

 

“What happened?” He asks because if he can't do this, then what can he do? If he can’t help Mickey—his Mickey, his Omega—then what can he do?

 

“Fuckin nothing. Piss off.” But he can't accept this. He maneuvers his body so he’s behind Mickey, his arms wrapped around his middle. “Get the fuck off of me.” He protests, shoving at his arms.

 

“Let me, please. Just let me.” Mickey grunts and shoves one last time before settling. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” He insists again, setting his hands on top of Ian’s. He presses them closer to his stomach. “Kicking,” He mutters and Ian feels his stomach flip. She’s kicking. He can feel it against his hand.

 

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

 

“’Course it fuckin hurts. Did you think it feels like butterflies and rainbows? She’s kicking my goddamn insides, Gallagher, and it fucking hurts.”

 

“Someone’s feeling sassy.”

 

“The fuck you just call me?”

 

“Nothing, sorry. Why’re you so upset?”

 

“None of your damn business, that’s why.”

 

“Mickey,” It’s okay to beg sometimes, he tells himself.

 

“Some fucking idiot said something at work, not a big deal.”

 

Oh. _Oh_. Sometimes he forgets that not everyone sees Mickey the same way he does. Sometimes he forgets that not everyone respects Omegas like he does. Sometimes he forgets that society believes Mickey should stay home with the children and never leave the house. Sometimes he forgets that people voice their opinions unnecessarily. “What did he say?”

 

“Just stupid shit like you're not a good Alpha for letting me work and I shouldn’t even be allowed out in public like this. Said I should be held accountable for what he was doing to me.”

 

What? “What do you mean _what he was doing to you_?”

 

“Oh, uh… not a big deal.”

 

“Mickey Milkovich, you better fucking tell me.”

 

“He was just… trying to…” Mickey doesn’t finish. Why isn’t Mickey finishing?”

 

“Did he try to… touch you? Sexually?”

 

“Don’t make it sound like I'm some little kid, I know what he fucking did, Firecrotch.”

 

“Then tell me what he fucking did.”

 

“He was fucking touching my dick, okay? He was trying to make a move on me and then Mike kicked him out. It’s cool, alright?”

 

He feels anger boil inside him. How dare, _how dare_ , someone touch his Mickey. How dare someone try and take what’s rightfully his. He’ll kill him. He’ll fucking rip off the hands used to hurt his Omega and then give them to him as a present. A show of dominance, he thinks.

 

“Will you lighten your fucking grip? You’ll crush her.”

 

Oh shit. “Sorry.” He has to calm down. Not good for either Mickey or their child. She’ll feel the distress. Mickey’ll feel the distress.

 

He presses his face into his neck. He finds the bite easily and licks over the scars. It feels bad. It feels like he tries to rip Mickey’s head off. It probably hurt, he thinks. He presses kisses along the column of his neck and then his clothed shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shoulda been there.”

 

“I can take care of myself.”

 

“I know, but I want to take care of you.”

 

Mickey is silent so Ian continues to press chaste kisses to his skin. He finds his spot and inhales, lapping at the skin there gently. “Are you okay?” He asks.

 

“I’m fucking fine.”

 

“Okay.” But he’s not entirely sure Mickey’s fine. “Is she okay?” He asks in reference to their daughter.

 

Mickey’s silent. “I don’t know.” He admits finally and turns in his arms. His stomach presses against Ian’s and Ian drops his nose into Mickey’s hair.

 

“I’m sure she’s fine. She was kicking a minute ago. She’s fine.”

 

“I know she’s fine now I just… I think she was afraid.”

 

“How do you know?” Mickey pulls away a little and holds up a scrap of fabric. He has no idea what it is. “What is that?”

 

“Remember that shirt you lost a couple weeks ago?”

 

“Mhm,” He hums.

 

“This is it. I cut it up.”

 

“You… cut it up?”

 

“That’s what I just fuckin said isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah… why?”

 

“For moments like this. I need your scent to keep her stable. Mike sent me home and I needed something that would smell like you to calm her down.”

 

“Did it work?” He’s curious. He presses his face against Mickey’s hair again. His fingers tighten around Mickey’s hips.

 

“It did. She’s fine. We’re fine.”

 

He should’ve been there. He feels like he’s failed. “Do you want to go out to eat today?” He asks suddenly, because it feels too stuffy in here.

 

“What? Like, fuckin now?”

 

“Yeah. I’m hungry. Let’s go now.” He loosens his hold on Mickey and watches as he unwinds himself.

 

“Whatever.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me ](http://guessiliedinthehook.tumblr.com/) for a good time 
> 
> You can also leave me prompts in the comments (and love because I'm such a slut for compliments) or in my message box on my [tumblr ](http://guessiliedinthehook.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Мы в порядке](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6782299) by [Ahe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahe/pseuds/Ahe)




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